


Showing Your Hand

by shrift



Series: Yuletide Fanworks [17]
Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are consequences to making Rusty Ryan worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



> Hat tip to The Big Con: The Story of the Confidence Man by David Maurer.
> 
> Beta by Nestra.

Rusty opened his hotel room door. Danny stood in the hallway with a carry-on suitcase and his overcoat draped over an arm. He wore the aggravated expression of a man who had recently seen the interior of LAX and was preoccupied with regretting all the decisions in his life that had led him to that point.

"Just fly into Burbank," Rusty said, because while he was glad to see Danny, he also was mad at him and Rusty was going to make him work for it.

Of course, Danny didn't know yet that Rusty was mad at him, but he'd learn in good time.

Danny grimaced. "It's an extra connection."

"At what price freedom, Danny?"

"You're not living the dream unless there are direct flights," Danny said. "It's like you don't remember Roanoke at all."

Rusty remembered Roanoke. In fact, he distinctly remembered being put up in a musty motel with no room service, walking to a gas station for dinner because it was the only place still open, and Danny being mugged for his wallet and Rusty for his Vanilla Zingers.

At least in Belize there had been fry jacks and tamales.

"Roanoke? Really? I counter with Niles."

"Let's not talk about Niles," Danny said, because they'd both learned the hard way that you shouldn't get off the train there unless you a) were evading the authorities, and/or b) had a keen interest in antiquing.

"You look tired," Rusty said. 

"That's fair. I am tired," Danny said. He nudged his suitcase forward until it bumped against Rusty's shins. "So I got the call. How's Linus holding up?"

Rusty stepped back and let Danny in the door. "Beating up on himself to a degree that makes everyone mildly uncomfortable."

"Maybe he should," Danny said. He dropped his overcoat on the desk chair and sat on the couch with considerably less elegance than usual. "He broke the first rule."

"Never beat the mark when he's drunk," Rusty said. He sat next to Danny, so close that his body was a warm press against Rusty's side. "But can we fix it for him?"

Danny rubbed at his eyes and then unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. "Okay. What about the store?"

"Can't use the store. Store's blown," Rusty said.

Danny made an unhappy face and sucked at his teeth. "So it's a pay-off against the wall."

"Yep." Rusty gave the p an extra pop.

"We should call in Frank."

"His plane lands at six." 

"Good, good," Danny said. "I never thought I'd say this, Russ, but I think we're doing an Esther Williams."

Rusty grinned. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

Rusty pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started jotting down notes in code.

A white van, a couple of navy jumpsuits with name tags that both read ‘Bob', some intriguingly retro swimwear, a purloined Olympic gold medal, and Linus as the new pool boy for the Beverly Hills Hotel later, and they were in business.

* * *

Rusty belted his bathrobe, which he almost exclusively used in hotel rooms; technically it was a striped dressing gown that he'd picked up in Harrods a few years back, mostly because the tassel belt had called to him. A robe was the closest thing to being naked without also having to consider how all the furniture had been defiled by previous guests. Also, most hotel bathrooms had shitty ventilation and Rusty hated putting on clothes when he was still damp.

He exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Danny was sitting on his couch in the dark like some creep or a mafia hit man. Rusty flipped the switch on the lights to find that Danny had broken in the bottle of red that he'd planned to enjoy this evening.

"Hugh Hefner called. He wants his robe back," Danny said.

"You're a liar and a thief. Never make that comparison again."

Danny sighed heavily. "Look, I know you set this up to distract me."

"You weren't returning my calls," Rusty said, wandering farther into the room with his hands in his robe pockets. "You know I worry."

Danny made a face. "You don't need to worry."

"Two more hours and you would've missed your check-in," Rusty said, because a missed check-in meant lawyers and moving money and calling out favors and possibly brushing up on his cookie recipes. Rusty had a good feeling that snickerdoodles were his next masterpiece.

The last time Danny had missed a check-in, he'd been fooling around with Incan matrimonial head masks, and they both knew how well that had turned out.

"Well, maybe you can worry a little," Danny conceded.

"Danny," Rusty said. He sat on the coffee table and tapped Danny's knee. "I heard about the divorce."

He hadn't just heard about it; people had lit up his cell phone with calls to the point where his ringtone had put him off new wave for almost a week.

Danny turned his head and rubbed at his jaw, laughing a little. "It turns out that women don't really like it when you spend six months hiding from them."

"Nobody likes that," Rusty told him. Tess also hated moving, hated unpacking and decorating everything by herself because Danny refused to give an opinion, probably because he was still embarrassed by mixing up puce with chartreuse that one time. Rusty also suspected that Danny was afraid of patterns, and that's why he always went with a classic suit.

But what Tess hated the most was when Danny made decisions on her behalf without consulting her. She was smart woman and Rusty had to agree with her on that; it was Danny's worst feature.

"Should I be taking your advice? Your experiment in cohabitation seems to have failed miserably."

Isabel and Rusty had liked the idea of each other more than the execution. Their weird personal habits hadn't been compatible long-term. He had no regrets. Well, maybe one or two.

Rusty raised his eyebrows. "Turns out my ex-girlfriend really likes arresting people and I really like not being arrested. That is not the subject at hand, Daniel."

Danny recoiled and brought up his hands. "Okay. I know when I'm on the wrong end of your judgmental face."

He let Danny squirm in silence for a while by pouring himself a glass of wine, swirling it, and taking a sip.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Rusty let him squirm a little more. As usual, Danny panicked too soon and went for the Hail Mary pass.

"Look, I thought Tess was the one. I wanted her to be the one, but she's done with me now and I have to respect that. But I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and what if there's more than one… one?"

"Awkward construction. Should've worked on that line more," Rusty said, because he didn't know where Danny was going with this and that made him nervous.

"Shut up." Danny took his hand and nudged his thumb along the pointed end of Rusty's tattoo.

Rusty felt the touch shiver up his arm. The spark, the possibility of this, had been there since they'd met. It had fizzed brightly, like the first sip of a freshly poured gin and tonic, and then settled over the years into something deep and mellow and unspoken. He'd spent longer than he probably should have thinking something was going to happen, but Danny liked women, and more importantly, he liked the chase. Rusty was Danny's right hand; it was hard to give him the chase when Rusty needed Danny to trust him implicitly. 

"Why this? Why now?" Rusty asked. When they got into this thing, they'd agreed to play like they had nothing left to lose. Money, cars, clothes, those he could abandon without a thought, but Rusty had always known there was one thing that he couldn't stand to lose. He was staring right at him.

Danny looked down and traced his fingertips over the skin of Rusty's hand, and then moved them under the cuff of his robe to press against the bones of his wrist. "You know, I kept telling you to get married, buy a house, have some kids. Maybe I was doing that thing married people do with their single friends. Or maybe I was hoping that we'd both be off-limits that way. That I wouldn't have to make the choice to do this. To ask you to do this with me."

"Because it's terrifying?" Rusty asked, his voice tight around the hope rising in his throat.

"Scariest thing I've ever done," Danny said. He finally looked up, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Rusty was keenly aware of the fact that he was alone in a room with Danny, wearing nothing but a robe.

"Is this the part where you kiss me?"

"You're damn right it is," Danny said. He leaned in and pulled Rusty forward by his wrist. The first kiss was a warm press and cling of their lips, their stubble scratching together. Danny put his thumb on Rusty's chin and pressed his fingers to the point of his jaw, and his next kiss was aggressive. Slow and open-mouthed and thorough, the kind of kiss that had Rusty closing his eyes and chasing after Danny's mouth when he was done. The kind of kiss that had Rusty wrenching Danny's shirt collar askew.

"So that was good," Danny said, a little breathlessly. "I haven't heard you make that noise since the first time we went to Roscoe's."

"Yeah," Rusty said, because Danny's lips were pink and he had a twinkle in his eye that he'd been missing for a long time.

"We should do a lot more of that."

Rusty nodded. "I concur."

"We don't have to wait three dates to, uh…"

"So suave, and then you ruin it," Rusty sighed.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry. I was expecting it. Why don't we finish this bottle of wine and see where that takes us?" Rusty said.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Let's do that."

* * *

The next morning, over coffee and French toast, Danny tilted his head and asked, "Linus?"

Rusty licked the syrup from his fork. His hotels probably would make more money if he were less exacting when it came to room service, but there was a time and a place for brioche French toast stuffed with Nutella, and that time was always.

"The mark was some Hollywood guy, wanted to be in on a job, do some research for a screenplay. He was thrilled with the result. Linus's parents said some nice things, so he is also thrilled. I would even go so far as to say he is over the moon."

Also, Rusty officially owed Linus a favor. Linus had been a little too intensely interested in the scope of said favor, but Rusty figured he'd worry about that when the time came.

"As long as everyone's happy. I guess I should give him my thanks. What's this?" Danny asked as Rusty pushed an envelope across the table with a mildly sticky finger.

"Your cut of the take."

"I couldn't possibly --"

Rusty just shook his head. "Nope."

"All right," Danny said, and tucked the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket.

They drank their coffee. Danny managed to keep quiet, for once.

"We should go somewhere. Just you and me. Steal something fun," Rusty said.

"Paris?"

"Paris has a lot of fun things to steal."

Danny looked thoughtful. "We could get crepes from that one place. You remember the one?"

"The one by Gare Montparnasse?"

"Yeah," Danny said feelingly. "Those were good crepes."

"We could go tonight," Rusty said.

"Do you have a bankroll?" Danny asked, sitting up in his chair.

Rusty shrugged. "Little bit. Sold most of my cars. It's not much, but it's enough to get us started."

Danny grinned and leaned in for a kiss. "Gonna be my sugar daddy?"

"Careful, gramps. Your sugar daddy is three years younger than you are."

"Shut up and finish your French toast," Danny said.


End file.
